


Venom

by Helen8462



Series: Tumbler Prompts, Challenges and Other Inspired Vignettes [13]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Dying alone, Prompt Fic, Torture via Nature, ambiguous ending, implied major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 17:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: The venom, as it fills her veins, makes her warm and tastes sweet.





	Venom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ailtara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailtara/gifts).



The venom, as it fills her veins, makes her warm and tastes sweet.

It is a thick blanket placed over her legs, a welcome contrast to the brisk, evening air.  

Comforting.

It is a drop of honey on her tongue, replacing the bitter remnants of coffee.

Delicious.

She relishes in the increasing euphoria that accompanies every breath.  Her lungs are filled with rich, natural oxygen, threatening to burst. Her head is light, thoughts and limbs, like clouds, drift above her and out into the night.

Night.

Starless night.

But there were stars.

There should be stars.

Adrenaline pounds at the wall that has been built around her bliss.  With each hammer of her heart, her muscles fortify to lift heavy eyelids.

Stars. There they are.

She relaxes for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then panic sets in.

The blanket is heavy now, it’s lead fibers unraveled to tie her legs to the ground, chest and upper arms in the same battened state.  But her fingers, they are moving; illuminated only by moonlight she can see them since she’s managed to loll her head to the side.  Wetness spills from her numb lips in strings of saliva and slides down her neck.

Not far off she sees the flicker of firelight and figures.  

She doesn’t notice the lack of sound until use of her ears is suddenly, shockingly returned.  Her hyper-attuned sense is startling and if able she would have thrown her hands over them to block the cacophony.

 _Laughter_ , she realizes when the ringing dissipates.  

 _They’re laughing and talking._   

_We had a cookout.  A campout._

_Shore leave.  Overhaul._

_Voyager._

She manages enough resolve to scrape her ear along the ground, cranes her neck, and behind her she can see the glow of lights filter through the windows of the ship.

_It’s so close._

But the crew gathered around the fire are closer and without much effort she can make out every word.

“…and then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the Turbolift took me back to Deck four!”

_Laughter.  More laughter.  Tom is telling a story._

_I have to get their attention._

Her fingers are still moving.  If she concentrates very hard she can bend at the knuckles and slightly at the wrist. The signals to her muscles are delayed, motor-neurons failing with each passing second.  But she has one advantage, one hand is on her stomach from when she had been sleeping.  She can just make out the shadow of her fist over the top of her heaving chest.

Fingers pulling, dragging the appendage they are attached to.  Upward over grey cloth.  Upward, they creep toward her combadge.

She feels the cold metal under her fingertips at last.  Using the gift of a twitch she taps it just hard enough.

The chirp reverberates through her ears.

_Chakotay_

But the name never makes it to her tongue.

_Someone, anyone._

_Help_

The words die in her throat.

Left abandoned, the comlink closes.  

The warmth of toxic liquor that was so comforting just moments ago begins to burn.  A deep ache settles in her muscles, her feet sting and her toes are aflame.  The sensation creeps up her ankle and into her calf, stabbing at every nerve along the way.  Rising as a steady wave, the pain shoots into her kneecaps and it is at this point she would scream.  

If only she could.

“…okay, okay.  Your turn, Kes.  Most embarrassing thing that’s happened since we’ve been on  _Voyager.”_

_Kes_

_Kes,_ she focuses.   _You can hear me, can’t you?_

_Concentrate, Kes._

_Please?_

Joy is carried on the night breeze.  It is nothing less than cruel that the last sounds she will hear are those of her comrades laughing.

These stories will haunt them later.

After they’ve found her.

The burning hot flame has moved upwards to squeeze at her gut and now tightens around her chest. It is a vine, a rope, a corset, a load of bricks – she doesn’t know why she feels the need to define it – and it further constricts her rapid breath which now comes in soundless gasps.

The only relief is that she can no longer feel the bottom half of her body.

Lost to the darkness.

_I’m being eaten alive._

The calm that she has been trying so hard to maintain breaks like glass and her thoughts become a torrent of anxiety unable to be physically expressed.

_I’m dying._

And now all she can pray is that her life will end quickly.

Eyes peeled and unable to be closed, she focuses on the movements and voices of her friends.

“…you’re a spoilsport, Chakotay.”

_B’Elanna_

“I’ll take a raincheck, I’m tired.  Keep it down over here, some of us still have duty in the morning.”

The syrup in her mouth has turned sickeningly saccharineand then, with a guttural cough she cannot suppress, it morphs into the flavor of metal.

_Blood_

The noose is now tied tighter upwards still, strong hands around her neck and she gasps, starving for air.  She will blackout soon, she hopes, no longer afraid.

“Goodnight,” calls the chorus of voices.

_Chakotay_

_He’s leaving._

And then she remembers something that does scare her.  Terrifies her.

_Something bit me._

_It could bite them too._

Footsteps approach. Crunching leaves, swishing grass.

_He’s coming, finally.  Maybe it’s not too late…_

“Goodnight, Kathryn,” she hears him whisper.

Her widened eyes, distorted in the shine of his boots, are the last image she sees.

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece of horror is the result of a fabulous prompt by @ailtara, Queen of all things angst-and-tragic. It was: Make the character’s death slow and painful, but make them unable to call out for help even though they can literally see the other characters nearby.  
> Check. (Originally posted on Tumblr)


End file.
